


Across an Ocean of White Grass

by lunacosas



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Getting Together, Huddling For Warmth, Kissing, M/M, Winter, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28041810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunacosas/pseuds/lunacosas
Summary: They make the journey to Kaer Morhen together this year.
Relationships: Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Comments: 12
Kudos: 43
Collections: The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge #012





	Across an Ocean of White Grass

They had ridden through the night, covering a vast expanse beneath the stars, their breath billowing as clouds before them as they went. The emptiness of the world echoed back at them as they travelled, absent any life beyond the occasional scurrying of small mammals or the whisper of wings. The darkest hours behind them, the cold still lingered, biting deep even as dawn began to break on a world of fragile white, frost clinging to every blade of grass, every curl of moss beneath the horses’ hooves. It crusted on the outer layer of Eskel’s cloak, shattering as he shifted and turned to his companion.

Geralt looked as tired as he felt. His cloak was thinner than Eskel’s, the felted wool no comparison to the warm embrace of fur-lined cloak, but it was still fit for purpose. It shimmered with the glitter of frost, Geralt’s head bowed beneath the deep hood.

“We should stop.”

Geralt looked up, his eyes heavy with exhaustion, and did little more than nod. Some moments passed as he took in the near-empty world around them, the landscape much the same as that they’d entered before nightfall. The desolate plane would take perhaps half a day to cross if they stopped to rest. “Over there,” he decided, his voice cracked with cold disuse.

A little way off, towards the rising sun, a small copse of sparsely limbed tree crowned the gentle crest of one of the few slopes in the landscape. They turned towards it, lapsing into silence as they went, and Eskel could hear the soft tumble of water as they neared. A little stream snaked along the ground, enough to make them pause and clamber stiffly down, refilling their canteens and allowing the horses to drink.

They went the rest of the way on foot, Eskel stumbling as the icy stiffness in his legs made him graceless. Geralt was no better – worse, even, as he slowly trudged heat back into his limbs. HIs hand was frozen around Roach’s reins, Eskel the same as he led his own mount, and when they reached the fragile trees, both men fumbled to secure the reins. Unfastening his pack from his horse took more dexterity than Eskel had, and when, at last, he had it done, all he longed to do was lie right there on the ground and sleep.

He did not, though. He saw to his horse, covering him with a warm blanket and giving him some feed. Geralt was murmuring softly to Roach, rubbing her nose as she ate from his gloved palm, taking longer with the task than he needed to. By the time he had turned from her, Eskel had settled beneath the silent boughs of a fragile, fish-boned tree, gazing more at Geralt than the almost ethereal landscape.

“That cloak is a fine thing.”

“It was payment,” Eskel said. “And is big enough to share, I think, if you want to try?”

A murmur was all Geralt managed in answer, his bulk dropping to the frosted ground at Eskel’s side. Tired, heavy limbs worked the two cloaks around their bodies, armour bumping against armour as they pressed together. The warmth from Geralt was barely more than a flame flickering in the darkness, and Eskel sighed softly, his eyes falling closed. “You should have said.”

“’m fine.”

“Still…” Eskel started to say, and then found there was no strength left to speak. Beyond their heartbeats and the fussing of the horses, there was only silence.

The sun was no higher than its zenith when he woke, the world still silent. In the short time they had slept, the two men had become entangled, their drawn up knees causing their legs to become entwined, Eskel’s hand curled at Geralt’s chest and Geralt’s lay over his waist. The heat of Geralt’s body was restored, the smell of him like home in the tight space between them. For a moment, sure of their safety and the secret of his weakness, Eskel let himself linger, relaxed as he memorised the scent of the other Witcher, the warm skin and stale sweat, woodsmoke from the last fire and the musky tang of Roach. There was an earthen softness to Geralt that always lay beneath whatever blood or foulness had been spilt. Eskel would know him anywhere, in any life. He was glad they shared this one, that they had met on the Path so close to winter and could make the journey to Kaer Morhen together this year.

He intended to rise, to check on the horses and fetch something to eat, but as he made to move Geralt shifted. A smile tugged softly at his lips, even though his eyes remained peacefully closed. “Eskel.”

“We should get moving.”

There was a murmur that meant nothing, Geralt’s arm tightening around Eskel’s waist. “In a moment.”

The choice was to pull away or linger, and it was no choice at all. “Geralt…”

With a disarmingly gentle sigh, Geralt’s touch shifted, gloved fingers tangling in Eskel’s hair as he pressed their foreheads together. “I’m tired.”

Eskel let his eyes fall closed, concealing his own vulnerability as best he could while held so close to Geralt. “We will be home within a sennight.”

“Mm,” he hummed.

“We ought to…”

“I know.” There was an even softer sigh, barely a caress against his skin, before Geralt whispered again: “I know.”

The kiss was so gentle, so light, that for a moment it did not seem real; perhaps a part of a dream Eskel was yet to wake from, or a conjuring of his own tired mind. And yet, the touch lingered, as real as the ground beneath them.

And then it was gone.

“We should go,” Geralt finally agreed, shifting away.

It was cold without him. Eskel watched the other man, and realised that above them the frost still lingered, glittering on the boughs. Halfway to its zenith, the sun had yet to muster the power to thaw the cold, steely grip that had closed in on the landscape. An ocean of fragile white expanded around them, the foothills finally visible in the distance.

“Your cloak is wet.”

“It will dry.”

Eskel fetched a strip of dried meat from his saddlebag, breaking it in half and then unfastening his cloak, swapping it for the felted blanket that was his horse’s. “Wear mine for a while. You will feel better.”

He could see the instinctive hesitance, and pinpoint the moment it gave way to life-long trust. Geralt nodded, shrugging off his own sodden cloak. “Just for a while.”

They readied themselves and mounted, taking one last stop at the stream before setting out across the gently swaying ocean of white grass.

The kiss was not mentioned.

There was enough deadwood that night for a fire beneath the fringes of the forest they reached, and fresh grass for their horses to graze. There was little need for such a heavy cloak, so Eskel shed his, seeing to the woodfowl cooking over the fire. To his side, Geralt was cleaning his sword, tending to it with meditative devotion.

They still had not talked about it.

The whole day, it weighed on Eskel’s mind. He expected Geralt to mention it, to say something. He had wanted to hear something said, to know that he was not the only one thinking about it, wondering…

But no explanation came, no passing comment. He would take an apology, if only because it would allow him to reject it, to address the moment that was beginning to haunt him. In his memory of it he was still, passive, neither giving nor receiving. He came to understand that perhaps that was why Geralt made no mention of it. The moment was to fade, then, like the frost that had clung to the grass and hung the fragile boughs above them.

Meditation brought the stillness he needed, and the certainty he longed for. Even settled, he was aware of Geralt close by, the warmth of him, the inviting tug that beckoned him closer. He knew he did not want Geralt’s touch to become a mere memory, but to be something real again, something he could hold onto, and have.

He sat with the comfort of his certainty, content not to rush now that he had found it. He thought there would be more anxiety within him when he stood, a wild drumming of his heart, perhaps, but it was sure and steady. His movements were confident, his purpose measured as he crossed to where Geralt sat, sinking down into his lap.

The surprise was expected, the way Geralt’s eyes widened in question, his mouth falling open, predictable. The way his gaze softened, eyelids falling closed, a murmur tumbling from his lips as Eskel took his face in his hands, was a gift beyond measure.

And the kiss…

The kiss was heaven itself, earthy desire filling his senses as Geralt kissed back, as hungry for more as Eskel was. There was no gentleness in the desperation they shared, no space for tender touches – that came after, once the torrent of need had found expression, had burnt out because there was no breath left for it to take in the space that no longer exited between them.

Geralt smiled then. He smiled, even though it was at Eskel, at a face marred and twisted beyond recognition of anything beautiful or handsome. He smiled, and they kissed, and he smiled some more.

“We should sleep.”

“We should,” Eskel agreed, neither of them questioning how it would be done. Where each of them began and ended became hard to tell, not least of all because Eskel did not care to notice.

In the morning, they rode on. The blanket of clouds had cleared from the sky, frost gripping the landscape once more as they pushed towards Kaer Morhen. There was a laziness to their pace, the push towards the old keep more of a nudge than a gripping longing, because, for both of them, home was now at their side.


End file.
